Tainted Loathing
by BellatrixLestrangey
Summary: Part of Femslash February. Prompt: Hate. Nerissa and Icy both dislike the concept of love. They both revel in their own hatred. The find themselves hesitantly intrigued by this common ground.


She only knows hate.

She only wants to know hate.

Love is dangerous, a thing to use and to exploit. Hatred is a thing of power, a very grand weapon. A weapon that burns hot and fierce and makes her feel mighty. Untouchable. Unbreakable. Love is nauseating, it puts a queasy feeling in one's stomach. Nerissa recalls that much from teenage years, so long ago. It is dizzying and disorienting. It had once left her feeling light and, perhaps, free. But she knows very well that it had made her weak. As a guardian she had almost gotten herself killed over it a number of times. She is glad to be free of that burden.

She is wholly content to be alone with her hate. To let it fester and boil and claim every little bit of her mind and soul.

She could put it to use.

She can smite everyone who had done her ill.

**.oOo.**

The concept of a witch in love is just about as taboo as a witch trying to perform light magic. Unless of course the witch is using love or light magic to meet her own ends, A thing that Darcy has been known to do. But she and Stormy, stay well away from that and leave it to Darcy and Darcy alone. Stormy harbors too much hatred to even try to fake love. Icy…

Icy worries that somewhere deep down there is a part of her that would end up falling for real. She tends to be her own undoing.

So she keeps herself carefully guarded and unapproachable. She allows herself to be as cold as her name and colder than her powers.

She can't afford a lapse in her image.

Not now.

Not ever.

Her image is all she has. Her only protection.

**.oOo.**

The frost woman makes her angry beyond all compare. It is bad enough that her vengeance hadn't gone as planned. That her hatred wasn't good enough, wasn't hot enough. But now she has to deal with the ice witch on top of it all. Surly she has enough hatred burning within to burn them all away now. If she doesn't, then those new guardians truly are a mournfully unbeatable force and she will never see the heart of Kandrakar again.

The ice witch throws another snowball her way. It is all that the woman can manage with her powers so heavily restricted by whatever magic was infused in her cuffs. It is a wonder that the woman can muster up any magic at all. Nerissa thinks that it is sheer will-power alone. She can see it on the frosty woman's face that it very physically pains her to exert herself so much.

Nerissa has to admire the woman's dedication to being a complete asshole.

All the same. it is still an annoyance. And Nerissa is ready to straddle and beat the woman. To be rid of that smug smirk and end the irritation. Another snowball contacts her back and and sends an angry shiver up her spine.

**.oOo. **

She has to make the woman hate her.

It is the only way to protect and preserve herself. Herself as she is currently. To preserve her safety and security. She wishes that they would have locked her away with Darcy or Stormy as they usually did. Or, at least, isolated her completely.

But instead they have dropped her with probably the most intriguingly spiteful and alluringly beautiful woman they could find. Icy resents them for it with all of her soul. This woman with her thick black locks and her deep blue eyes reminds her of Darcy. Darcy but with an even more poisonous edge. Darcy with a body count.

Oh yes, Icy has heard things of this woman. She has heard that the woman had killed her own best friend for power. Icy didn't think that even she could kill Darcy or Stormy for the dragon fire. This woman, she is on a different level of vile and Icy loves it.

She hates that she loves it.

She has to get rid of the feeling. So she tosses snowball after snowball at the woman. It puts a dull ache in her head and the magic from the cuffs seem to turn her blood white hot and searing. But she persists in making the biggest nuisance of herself as she possibly can.

At last the woman is upon her.

And as soon as she is, Icy knows that she has made a mistake.

Because it was sexy as hell.

The woman is breathing heavily with rage. She can clearly see the rise and fall of an ample chest. Her hair falls over it in elegant waves. The eyes that cut into Icy are narrowed with resentment. Typically Icy prefers to be on top, but this woman makes the reverse an intriguing thing. She never thought that she would enjoy being pinned to the floor.

Even less, she considered that she would like taking a good punch to the face. Her lip is decently split. And the delicate curve of her smile rips it more.

**.oOo. **

Nerissa is astounded. The woman is mocking her. She strikes again and the ice witch laughs. In turn, Nerissa scowls, she stands up and offers the woman a sturdy kick.

"That was fast." The witch notes. "We should do it again some time."

Her anger hikes even higher. But as the days pass she doesn't see another round of snowballs. In fact, she doesn't see much of the witch at all. The woman seems to spend most of her time at the other end of the prison yard. But her white hair stands out so starkly, Nerissa's eyes always seem to find her. More than once they lock eyes. Sometimes Icy turns first and pretends as though it hadn't happened. Other times she turns faster.

Eventually, curiosity gets the better of Nerissa. She begins scoping the woman out. But the ice witch tends to evade her entirely or completely snub her when she does catch her. It is incredible, really. The woman is a plethora of vile words and creative insults. She teems with the hatred Nerissa craves. But her hatred is not like Nerissa's. The witch's hatred is cold and slick. Her own is volcanic.

Somehow, she wants it. Longs for it. They'd be such a poisonous pair.

And it horrifies her.

It horrifies her because she recognizes the feeling for what it is.

It is no longer admiration nor respect.

It goes beyond that.

It goes into the territory she seeks to avoid.

She is pissed at the witch all over again, for being so itriguigly hateful.

**.oOo.**

Icy frowns to herself. The more disdain she threw at the other woman, the closer she seemed to draw. She can't think of any way to get the woman to leave. Nothing short of, perhaps, getting disgustingly sappy and romantic. She is almost certain that, that would do the trick. But she has very little interest in letting herself sink that low.

Perhaps she should just cave and let the woman in.

This time when the woman approaches, she gives her own and asks for a name.

And she gets one.

Nerissa.

A pretty name. A darkly elegant one. It suits the woman well.

Nerissa seems evil enough. Perhaps an unconventional...bond...between the two wouldn't tarnish her image as sharing kisses with a hero would. Maybe if the kept things strictly in the sheets and broke prison rules, she could come away untainted. Perhaps, it will look even more deplorable this way. And by extension she will have an even sturider image.

Nerissa approaches again, looking as bitter and unhappy as she ever did. This time Icy closes the space between them more or less completely. She weaves her fingers into the woman's hair. Something flickers in her eyes and Icy doesn't know what it is.

It doesn't matter, she is done resisting.

She pushes the woman against the wall and runs her hands down the woman's sides and settles them on her hips. That shabby prison uniform had hid a lot. She kisses the woman with an almost savage sort of roughness.

If she doesn't want this than she can push away.

**.oOo. **

Icy is a bold one. She didn't expect the woman to make the first move, so she is taken aback when fingers hook in her hair. A wave of pleasure threatens to break the wall she had so carefully put in place. The witch trails cool fingers under her uniform, leaving a tingle on the skin they traced.

Nerissa rather enjoys it.

It disturbs her profoundly.

She hasn't taken pleasure…

Hasn't felt like so since she was a teen.

She hasn't wanted to.

She still doesn't want to.

But she does.

For it she resents Icy that much more. But that resentment is tangled up with something else. She knows what is laced in her hatred. She knows the word so perfectly. But she doesn't want to say it. Doesn't want to acknowledge it.

The witch kisses her with a sort of viciousness that strikes her fancy in the right ways. And it is easy to pretend that it is nothing more than lust. Nothing more than a shallow craving. But she knows that she is lying to herself in saying so.

She is almost certain that she loves Icy.


End file.
